Feel Good Inc
by Whoa Tamo
Summary: Murdoc, 2D and Russel are sent to Feel Good Inc., where they encounter the bizarre, sick, perverted, and delightfully pleasant. Murdocx2D, plus fun little lemon scenes involving random characters. Please R and R, it's much appreciated.
1. A Messy Lobby

Author: Whoa Tamo

Title: Feel Good Inc.

Rating: R

Pairing: M/M, M/F, F/F (Murdoc/2-D, Murdoc/Random chicks, Random chick/random chick). All in later chapters.

Warning: This story contains a good deal of drugs, sex, violence and hardcore music (I guess the music thing isn't something to be warned about, but whatever).

Summary: When Murdoc's friend Miro has outstayed her welcome at Kong Studios, she sends them to her favorite hangout; Feel Good Incorporated, a place where-literally-anything goes.

Disclaimer: I don't own Gorillaz or anything associated with them, such as Kong Studios. I do, however, own Miro, so don't steal her. Also, I own this story concept, which means that if you take this I will be very, very pissed and will make your life a living hell.

Authoress Ramblings: It's been a long, long time since I've written a fanfiction, and I've got to admit it feels good to be writing them again. This one is the first one I'll have ever written with so many controversial things and blah blah blah…stuff. Anyway, I hope you all enjoy the story. Please read and review, and no flaming. Flaming's just fucking annoying, you know.

A Messy Lobby

The rancid smell overwhelmed his nostrils, but it was nowhere near as bad as the sight before his eyes. He ran a hand through his soft spikes and breathed slowly through clenched teeth, using his teeth as a filter from the wafting fumes looming up from the piles of moldy pizza, stacks of worn underwear, discarded bandages that were crunchy with dry blood and dozens upon dozens of half empty bottles of booze. The worst smell, however, was emanating from the two sleeping forms on the couch; two friends who had obviously crashed there for the entire night. After a brief moment of hesitance, he grabbed the television remote and threw it, hitting one of the people loudly snoring on the couch.

The person snorted and blinked their eyes open, then rubbed their face sleepily. "Mother fuck…my head's killin' me…" the raspy voice of the woman startled 2-D slightly, but he regained his composure fairly quickly. Miro, meanwhile, was busy forcing her couch partner off the said piece of furniture so she would have more room. "Get the fuck up, Muds."

With a loud "thud" Murdoc fell off the couch and hit the floor, waking up immediately. "Mother fucker, my 'ead!"

"That's exactly what I said," Miro mumbled groggily. She looked up at 2-D for the first time and gave a stiff wave. "Need somethin'?"

Murdoc lifted his own head to see who Miro was talking to, but upon seeing 2-D he dropped his head back down and gave the singer the finger. "Go 'way, numbnuts."

Sighing, 2-D approached the two hung over friends and looked down at them. "Don't you fink it's gettin' kinda dirty in here?"

Miro and Murdoc exchanged a look with one another before sharing a devious smile. Murdoc rubbed his nose and slapped 2-D on the leg as he spoke. "If you're goin' t' be a fuckin' wank about a little mess then we can turn it right back on you."

Holding back the urge to roll his eyes, 2-D moved back away from Murdoc and crossed his arms. "But there's a difference 'tween a messy bedroom an' a messy lobby."

"'But there's a difference 'tween a messy bedroom an' a messy lobby.' You fuckin' twat, there's no fuckin' difference!" Murdoc's imitation of 2-D wasn't fantastic, but it made the point; 2-D had to either stop pussyfooting around the subject, or stand up to these two unpleasant people and make his point known bluntly. He decided to keep pussyfooting.

"What I mean is, isn't it like…kind of gross in here? I can't see the floor an' I know you two haven't eh…well…" at this point 2-D stumbled and shifted into silence since he couldn't think of a kind way to say, "you haven't showered and you smell wretched".

Being a much more observant type then Murdoc, Miro picked up on 2-D's point; it was time for her to go and for Murdoc to return to his Winnebago of despair. Being as uncaring and embittered as Murdoc, however, it was only natural that Miro didn't have a steady job (she worked in a junkyard), a home of her own (she lived with her brother), or a real meal everyday (she usually ate cereal). Anyone could see this by the holes in her white tank top, the tear in her black frayed skirt, and by the battered boots underneath a small pile of playing cards. Miro decided to find a way to keep her newfound home and meal ticket; she decided to send Gorillaz to her home away from home. First, though, she needed to trick them into going. "So what, 2-D? Why do you have to be so anal about having fun, hmm?"

Nervousness always made 2-D stutter badly. "N-n-n-no, I'm…I'm n-not anal ab-b-bout fun, it's j-j-just that it's so filfy in here and, and, and…I'm sorry, that's n-not w-w-what I meant!" 2-D held up his hands as he came to the end of what he was saying since Murdoc was glaring coldly at him. "It's j-just unsanitary is all, b-b-being that this is the lobby an' all."

Miro smirked and handed 2-D a set of keys she plucked from her bra. With an almost hypnotic look in her eyes, she stared long and hard at 2-D, and in a quick voice she said to him, "These are the keys to Feel Good Inc. tower. It's nothing but good times…nothing bad, just good times," she held up her finger to stop 2-D from interrupting her, "yes, it's a real place. They love you guys there. Now, you go and have fun, I'll watch Kong Studios while all of you go. Don't worry about a thing…just tell the owner that Miro sent you."

A stinging sensation shot up 2-D's hand and arm as Murdoc snatched the keys from his fingers. Chapped lips lifted and the faint slither of sharp green teeth appeared between them; the smile widened, and soon all of Murdoc's teeth could be seen as well as his pointed tongue that darted out to lick his dry lips in anticipation. "We're goin'."

The look on 2-D's face was an incredulous one, and he was giving it to Murdoc. "B-but Miro's idea of fun…um, no 'fense, Miro," he turned to look at Miro, who only shrugged in response. He continued, saying, "Miro's sense of fun's kinda…diff'rent from most people's."

Most people would be cautious about what they said around Miro and Murdoc since neither are understanding, but this time they both decided to let 2-D's comment slide. Yes, he was being a bit of a prude, but thanks to prior experience they knew that after a few drinks, a hit of Mary Jane, and a few pretty girls, 2-D was up for just about anything. "I already said it once, tosser, now don't make me say it again," Murdoc said threateningly, making the blue haired man shiver.

Nodding to Miro and Murdoc, 2-D smiled and grabbed the keys back from the darker man and got up. "I'll go tell Russ and Noods where we're going." With that he walked off, leaving Murdoc and Miro alone to promptly return to their interrupted napping.

End ramblings: I hope everyone enjoyed the first chapter of the story. Please review, give me comments, questions, predictions…whatever you'd like. I really loved writing this chapter, and I'm sure I'll like writing the next chapter as well. I hope everyone enjoyed reading and uh…yeah. Well, I'm going to let you all review. See ya!


	2. The Drive There

Author: Whoa Tamo

Title: Feel Good Inc.

Rating: R

Pairing: M/M, M/F, F/F (Murdoc/2-D, Murdoc/Random chicks, Random chick/random chick). All in later chapters.

Warning: This story contains a good deal of drugs, sex, violence and hardcore music (I guess the music thing isn't something to be warned about, but whatever).

Summary: When Murdoc's friend Miro has outstayed her welcome at Kong Studios, she sends them to her favorite hangout; Feel Good Incorporated, a place where-literally-anything goes.

Disclaimer: I don't own Gorillaz or anything associated with them, such as their Geep. I also don't own Kirby's Dreamland, iPods or Gameboys. I do, however, own Miro, so don't steal her. I also own this story concept, which means that if you take it I'll make your life a living hell.

Authoress Ramblings: Well, it's the second chapter already. I might end up cranking these out, but at the same time I might just be on a writing streak and then never get around to the later chapters. I don't know, I'm not sure. Either way, I hope everyone enjoyed the first chapter…I know I enjoyed writing it. If anyone thought the first chapter was dull, or this or that blah, blah basically anything that would be considered a flame, then fuck you up the arse with a ten foot dildo. I don't have the patience to deal with flamers; in fact, I don't really have the patience to deal with any bullshit what-so-ever. Well, read and review as always…please. I'd like to know what people think of this story so that I don't feel like I'm wasting my time.

The Drive There

Even though neither Miro nor Noodle were going to be joining the boys at Feel Good Incorporated, the two decided to go along for the ride, and because Murdoc had no idea how to get there on his own. Miro tried drawing Murdoc a map on a napkin, but as soon as she drew over the last few digits of a particularly seductive girl's phone number, Miro's drawing was put to a sudden end. Driving the Geep was Murdoc, who was scowling sourly while Miro, in the middle of the backseat, kept her head near his to constantly screech out directions. Noodle's Nintendo Gameboy glowed dully as she played the classic "Kirby's Dreamland" and listened to her newly purchased iPod. On the far right of the backseat sat Russel, who was attempting to play solitaire but kept failing by dropping the deck of cards each time Murdoc's terrible driving caused the Geep to jolt. The last occupied seat, the front passenger's "shotgun" chair, was holding Stuart Tusspot, better known as 2-D. The lead singer of Gorillaz had a melancholy expression on his face as he gazed out the foggy, rain splattered window. Stale air blew gently against his face and through his hair, drying his eyes and making him blink. He sat curled into a ball, which was very uncomfortable, but he was too tired to move at the moment; all he could focus on was the bleary, wet, and slightly shiny scenery flashing before his uncomfortably dry eyes.

Dust collected into a whirlwind from the A/C and aggravated Murdoc's already sensitive eyes. He closed his left eye, as it was much more easily irritated then the right (for fairly obvious reasons), and swerved slightly as he did so. His vision was terrible enough as it was, but with only one eye focused on the road and his unkempt hair blocking part of his vision, Murdoc was headed for disaster. Well, he would have been headed for disaster had they not already reached the large tower that was, apparently, Feel Good Incorporated.

Four doors opened and closed. Five people stepped onto the pavement. Only three members of the party stayed to gaze up inquisitively at the looming tower before them. Noodle had taken 2-D's spot and Miro found herself behind the wheel of the infamous Gorillaz Geep. Without giving any farewells of any kind, the two girls drove away; the three men strode slowly to the front doors, taking their time to admire the scene before them.

Even with all the differences between the motley crew, one thought floated through each of their minds. Was Feel Good Incorporated a good place, or bad? On the one hand it had the word "good" in its name, but on the other hand what sort of "good" place looked so ominous? Something in particular that bothered Murdoc, Russel, and 2-D was the fact that Feel Good Incorporated appeared to be abandoned, but they each knew that Miro had a strong desire, nay, a _need_ to be around other people at all times.

Murdoc reached forward, being the most daring of the three, and grasped the door handle loosely; he gave a sharp tug, but the door didn't open. Turning to Russel and 2-D, he gave a shrug and leaned his back against the cold, wet glass of the door. His shirt was damp and he felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand up, but he didn't move away. "I guess it's locked," he said with a nonchalant look on his face. 2-D pulled his arms into his shirt and crossed them to help keep warm while he danced around in circles, looking like a strange marionette with most of his strings broken. In the meantime the drummer of Gorillaz placed his hands behind his head and gazed up to try to spot the top of the tower; he squinted and even tried making his hands into binoculars, but to no avail. The top of the tower was quite possibly above the clouds themselves.

"FUCK!"

2-D spun around on one heel and nearly fell over; Russel looked sharply down to find Murdoc sitting on the ground, his legs splayed in a near split and a very uncomfortable look on his face. Before they could ask, all three noticed that the doors were open. A crackling sound startled 2-D, then a voice coming from a loud speaker kept his heart beating rapidly.

The voice was a woman's: smooth, seductive, and oddly enticing. It drew the men into the building after only saying, "Welcome to Feel Good Incorporated." Murdoc was first to walk in, limping slightly in discomfort as he went. Russel and 2-D followed behind him, Russel taking long strides and 2-D stumbling along in a confused manner. The doors closed behind them as the voice went on to simply say, "Remember to have fun."

End Ramblings: Again, I hope you enjoyed this chapter and are enjoying this story so far. Uh…yeah. I had fun writing it…again…um…not a whole lot new to say, sorry. Uh, please review.


	3. They're Mesmerized

Author: Whoa Tamo

Title: Feel Good Inc.

Rating: R

Pairing: M/M, M/F, F/F (Murdoc/2-D, Murdoc/Random chicks, Random chick/random chick). All in later chapters.

Warning: This story contains a good deal of drugs, sex, violence and hardcore music (I guess the music thing isn't something to be warned about, but whatever).

Summary: When Murdoc's friend Miro has outstayed her welcome at Kong Studios, she sends them to her favorite hangout; Feel Good Incorporated, a place where-literally-anything goes.

Disclaimer: I don't own Gorillaz or anything associated with them, such as Feel Good Tower. I do own Miro, however, so don't steal her. I also own this story concept, so if you take it…well…living hell, your life…yeah. We went through this before.

Authoress Ramblings: Well, it's chapter three time. Are we ready? Eh? EH! You better be, motherfuckers. Aha, I'm just kidding you filthy cocksuckers. I'm sick right now, and I don't really mean anything I'm saying. Ugh…what time is it? Motherfuck, it's 4 o'clock! I should really go do something constructive, like beat the snot out of my little brother or take a walk. I'm too tired though…stupid sickness. It's just a cold, but still. Gods my brother's such a prick, and he's only in Elementary school. Anyway, I hope you like this chapter, blah, blah, and yadda yadda. Um…please read and review.

They're Mesmerized

Loudspeakers lined the hallway that the three men sidled down. Above them was a dimly lit ceiling that must have been at least twenty feet high. 2-D let his arms slip back into his sleeves; the hall gave him a comfortingly warm feeling from its golden glow. He looked around in slack-jawed astonishment, and his black eyes widened into circles. Never before had he seen anything so eerily sterile yet intensely inviting in his entire life. A black scuff mark appeared on the lacquered wood floor from Murdoc's left boot as he dragged his feet along slowly. The bassist of Gorillaz would have avoided making the unsightly mark, however, had he not been busy gazing up at the mural painted on the walls around them. Images of men and women engaging in what the Christians call "sinful activities" were depicted beautifully and in amazing detail. Half naked women lay lounging seductively on shirtless men; scantily clad people sat huddled around a large hookah, breathing in deep fumes and drowning in smoke; men with men and women with women, some innocently kissing while others wrapped themselves around one another, writhing in pleasure (or so it appeared they were). Being the most mature of the three, Russel thought of the mural as a piece of artwork and kept a passing glance at it, unlike 2-D who nervously eyed the other two to see if they had noticed, or Murdoc, who kept his line of vision glued to the pictures.

The mural traveled along the walls, keeping the men's eyes company and their minds preoccupied. Had it not been there, they perhaps would have noticed the long journey they were taking down the seemingly endless hallway. It was then, however, that they reached the end. What stood before the boys was an oak table, rather short as it only came up to their groins, with three playing cards lying face-down upon it. Another loud crackling startled 2-D, who immediately looked up at the speakers above them, eyeing them with an expectant look on his face. Sure enough, the smooth, seductive voice of the woman boomed out, reverberating around the men. "Every guest to Feel Good Incorporated is given a designated position among our group. There are three cards on the table before you. One is the King, who watches over everyone and makes all decisions. Another is the Joker, who provides entertainment for the others. Lastly, there is the Ace, who is the center of attention. Please choose, and remember; do not trade cards."

"Doesn't this like, seem kinda weird of somefin'?" 2-D questioned aloud as he stared at the playing cards with mild interest. He felt a sharp jab in his arm, delivered by Murdoc's fist. Before he began rubbing his arm, he gave Murdoc a sharp backhanded slap on the shoulder; it wasn't given with the intention of causing pain, but more for satisfying his urge to exact pointless revenge.

Over the years Murdoc Niccals had been to his fair share of strange "businesses". He had attended brothels with a theme, such as the wild west or ancient Greece, where he was required to dress in costume and act in character. Others had given him strange nicknames, or had safety words he had to use the entire night. Even a few bars he had gone to asked for some strange things from him, including having to drink in the dark while listening to "Gimme Shelter" with a large group of drunken strangers. So the commands of Feel Good Incorporated didn't perturb him too greatly; he had actually been expecting far worse. This is why he had hit 2-D, who, in his eyes, was being obnoxiously innocent and idiotic to what he should expect. He voiced his thoughts aloud, saying, "Jus' shut the fuck up an' pick a fuckin' card."

Silence loomed over them as no one moved nor spoke. Russel, being the largest of the three, shifted from one foot to the other, making the floor shake just slightly with each step. A tickle in the back of 2-D's throat nearly made him cough, but as he had trouble bringing his jittery hand out of his jean pocket, he merely cleared his throat quietly. The clicking from Murdoc's lighter was the only thing now breaking the silence; it startled 2-D and made him twitch his hand slightly. None of the men looked up from the cards on the small table, though.

One of the men's hands shot out and snatched the far left card, startling the other two slightly. Russel eyed his card and held it up to the others, an impatient look in his eyes. "They don't bite," he said gruffly while watching the other two, waiting for them to pick up their own cards. When neither of them did he continued, "Look, I said they don't bite! Now pick up a card and let's get this thing over with already!"

Murdoc nonchalantly reached out and took the card in the center, flipped it over, and eyed the position he received. A wicked smile irked at his lips, but he suppressed it with a scowl to hide his excitement. Last was now 2-D, who could only choose one card. Steeling himself for the moment, he took a shaky breath and hesitated slightly before he was hit on the nose with the card itself. He shot a cold look at Murdoc (who had hit 2-D with the card), then bent over to find the fallen card. The face of his card lay staring up at the other men, revealing 2-D's placement in Feel Good Incorporated. The three men looked to one another, none of them exactly sure of what was to happen next.

Three doors opened before them, the names of the cards they received flashing above the entryways. Russel shuffled past the other two men, shrugging slightly as he took the entrance to the far right. His jeans made a soft swishing as he went, but soon the sound disappeared as Russel closed the door to his entrance behind him. The door in the center was taken by Murdoc, whose own boots clacked against the hard wood floor until, like Russel, his door was closed and he was gone. All that was left now was 2-D, who stood transfixed before his own entrance, staring up at the blue neon letters telling him to come in and close the door. He looked away, blinking his sore eyes before walking. Over his shoulder he was able to see that the lights in the hallway had gone out, and that he was surrounded by darkness and blinding blue lights that made his head hurt. Suddenly feeling very cold again, 2-D pulled his arms back into his shirt, walked through his own entrance, and closed the door behind him.

End Ramblings: I had fun writing this yadda, yadda, blah. Please review. I'm still feeling sick, but thanks to sitting in front of the computer writing this all day, I feel slightly better and a helluva lot more tired. It's a good feeling. Well…not really, but I like to pretend it is so I don't go crazy. Anyway, like I already said a billion times, please review.


	4. The King's Throne

Author: Whoa Tamo

Title: Feel Good Inc.

Rating: R

Pairing: M/M, M/F, F/F (Murdoc/2-D, Murdoc/Random chicks, Random chick/random chick). All in later chapters.

Warning: This story contains a good deal of drugs, sex, violence and hardcore music (I guess the music thing isn't something to be warned about, but whatever).

Summary: When Murdoc's friend Miro has outstayed her welcome at Kong Studios, she sends them to her favorite hangout; Feel Good Incorporated, a place where-literally-anything goes.

Disclaimer:

Authoress Ramblings: Well, I hope everyone likes this story so far. I'm personally enjoying writing it and I'm really getting into the story itself and blah, blah, blah. I've been busy with schoolwork lately, so pardon me if chapters take longer to crank out. Also, in case anyone has the strange desire to contact me, you can do so by either emailing me at or IM me via AIM at Anarchymoose100. If you want to call me, write me, or meet me in person, then tough shit.

The King's Throne

The entrance immediately led into another hallway, this one being smaller, darker, and far more narrow then the one the men had just been in. A dull throbbing began weakly behind his eyes. The sudden change was aggravating; he already had a problem with headaches. He tripped a few times as he went deeper into the bowels of the hall, unable to see where he was going and his eyes were taking a good deal of time to adjust. Haunting, eerie music sent a cold wave over his spine, enveloping him with icy chills. His long, thin fingers slipped down his pale chest and rested awkwardly on his nearly inverted stomach, which had clenched painfully in nervousness and fear. Footsteps echoed on the wooden floor and against the smooth concrete walls into his ears. He found himself shivering now, his legs dully aching from walking, and the pain in his head was growing worse as he hesitantly moved on to, what he hoped, was the end of the black hall.

A new door stopped him rather abruptly as he slammed into it; he cursed softly and rubbed his forehead. Blood ran warm and smooth down the crevice beneath his nose and stopped at the top of his lip, collecting into a large drop that he deftly lapped with his tongue. The bitter taste of iron startled him, making him hold his bleeding nose and squeeze it shut to stop the blood from dripping onto his clothes or the floor he stood on. The door before him opened and revealed an older woman who wore a bright pink dress that seemed to belong on a baby doll. A dainty, laced hand gripped his own cracked, bloody one and led him into a room glowing with red, pink, and silver. Her blonde hair bounced in tight curls and her large, pink beaded high heels stepped silently across the sea of soft red carpet. The music he had heard earlier flooded this new room, but it oddly didn't give him the shivery feeling it had in the hallway. Violins, soft saxophones, and the hinting of pan pipes locked him into a trance that filled him with warmth and an overwhelming feeling of calmness. He found himself being guided into the room by the gloved woman, her skirt brushing against his knees as he slowly strode to a huge throne in the middle of the room. Deep red velvet made up the cushions on the throne, giving 2-D a much warmer feeling then ever, nearly to the point where he was sweating.

He fingered his card, the King of Hearts, and admired the décor of his room. "Do the others have rooms like dis? Like, wiff a frone an' shit?" He was pushed heavily onto the throne by the older woman, who in turn sat on his lap. A white shirt was pulled up on 2-D's shoulders, where it was being stretched oddly by his arms. He found his arms were now dangling lifelessly inside of his shirt, trapped in place until the woman yanked the t-shirt over his head and dropped it onto the floor. The bareness of his own chest startled 2-D, but not quite as much as the hands of the older woman tracing along his abdomen and nipples. "W-w-w-what…w-w-what're you doin'!"

A light giggle escaped her lips, making the thin wrinkles along her face become more evident. Even though she was older, probably around forty-five or so, she was still very attractive, which was most likely the reason why he now found himself turning red and becoming very flustered. "You're Stuart Tusspot, aren't you? We've all heard so much about your band. We love your singing, too." The way she spoke was strange to him; she talked in a confused sort of way, but as if she knew exactly what to say at the same time.

"F-fank you. F-f-fat's very kind…" He trailed off as the woman's lips landed on his, and his eyelids fell so that all he could see was the red and gold of closed eyes. She pulled away and placed a crown on his head, smiling as she did so until the red lipstick that remained on her lips cracked, revealing an uneven coating. "Fank you," 2-D stated, no longer sure of what he was thanking her for.

He heard the light laughter drifting around the room, which gave him a better idea of how many people were in the room with them. A particularly girlish one was the loudest, which came from the woman on his lap. She wrapped her arms around his neck and placed her head on his chest to listen to his quickening heartbeat. "You're welcome, my liege."


	5. Don't You Think the Joker Laughs at You?

Author: Whoa Tamo

Title: Feel Good Inc.

Rating: R

Pairing: M/M, M/F, F/F (Murdoc/2-D, Murdoc/Random chicks, Random chick/random chick). All in later chapters.

Warning: This story contains a good deal of drugs, sex, violence and hardcore music (I guess the music thing isn't something to be warned about, but whatever).

Summary: When Murdoc's friend Miro has outstayed her welcome at Kong Studios, she sends them to her favorite hangout; Feel Good Incorporated, a place where-literally-anything goes.

Disclaimer: I don't own Gorillaz, but if I did, that would knock my socks on my ass.

Authoress Ramblings: I'm bored, cold, and above all, I'm wet. Just got out of the shower. Mmm…yeah. So, is everyone liking the story so far? Good, that's good…just good. Mmm. Why the hell are the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles doing their crime fighting in robots now? Anyway…

Thank you to everyone who was kind enough to review me. Please keep reviewing if you want to see the rest of the story, since it really does help. Also, I'll remind everyone that if they want to contact me to do so by emailing me at or by IMing me via AIM with the screen name Anarchymoose100, which also really, really helps. 

Don't You Think the Joker Laughs at _You_?

The entrance the man walked through led him immediately to a spiraling black and white marble staircase. He stepped quietly onto the stairs, a joking smile on his face as he thought over what sort of games he would have to endure. He could only figure that Feel Good Incorporated was a haven for quirky and kinky games since the large mural he passed earlier depicted such activities. As he walked he admired the interior of the stairwell, which was very similar to the entrance hall. The tower was gorgeous- the murals, extravagant details...it was obvious this was a well taken care of place of business.

The man looked around- left to right- then as quickly and silently as he could he ascended the stairs faster, hoping to reach his inevitable destination. He stepped down heavily when he reached the top, making the step he lifted off of creak. A dimly lit hallway that only grew darker as it went on was what greeted him, and it quickly wiped the smile off of his face. The floor was carpeted; an odd pattern of blue, green, gray, gold, and white went on endlessly. Rugs approximately the length of his own body were placed in six or seven foot intervals. The walls had tall, locked doors running along them, with lamps that looked like candles in between each set of double doors. There was wallpaper with sherbert coloring that made his stomach growl at the thought of sweet desserts of vanilla and the light taste of oranges. He stood for an eternity, gazing down the hallway to try and see what was waiting at the end, but only darkness glared back.

Slowly he began to take his first steps. He nervously turned around every other second to make sure he wasn't in some sort of trap. It may seem ridiculous to most people that a tower would try to trap a man in its clutches, but people would believe anything when they're absolutely frightened by what fate may be dealt. As he walked along, he began to hear soft murmurings all around, but nothing particularly distinct. He thought that perhaps there were people locked away in these rooms, but on second glance the man came to the realization that these locked doors were never meant to be opened.

Russel slowly made his way along, checking his watch a few times to see exactly how long he had been there. He was shaking slightly, a nervous wreck if ever there was one. Though he had never told anyone before, Russel had a history of becoming frightened and jittery when he was alone ever since his friends had been shot down so many years before. He hated when he didn't know what was going on, and he was unable to control what happened to him. Paranoia made his shaking body jolt far more then before, and he began to contemplate whether or not he would live. Did he actually believe that this hallway was pure evil? Of course not. Unfortunately for Russel, though, he was too frightened to come to any sort of reasonable conclusion.

The murmurings from before grew louder, more distinct. They were from people of different ages, different genders. Women discussing their associates with contempt, men guffawing loudly and cackling over plans that made Russel turn red in embarrassment. He could even hear what he assumed were the employees discuss how one woman on the ninth floor was giving them a hard time, and how later they would need to "punish her". Feet stopped, and so he listened for a few moments, laughing almost wickedly at some of their conversations now. He laughed to himself and smirked to try and calm down, thinking of where these people could be, but the feeling of calm didn't last when he realized he had absolutely no idea. The voices…the conversations…they brought back memories of the drummer's own past, and he began to wonder if he were insane, or if there really was something going on in Feel Good Inc. tht wasn't quite right. Quickening his pace, going double speed then what he had been and constantly turning around is how he rushed through the hall and sunk deeper into the depths of hell.

More memories sprouted into his head as he walked on towards the end, each one far worse then the last. He thought back to one of Noodle's books, Alice in Wonderland and questioned if this was going through the looking glass, and everything that was normal wasn't, and everything that wasn't, was. He was confusing and scaring himself to no end with all of his thoughts, memories and theories, so he narrowed everything down to one simple idea: he should have listened to his blue-haired friend's warnings about Miro's ideas of what felt good.

Lost in his own thoughts, he nearly missed reaching the end of The Hallway. The darkness had ended, turned itself into dimly lit candles and gold lined walls. The hallway turned into another that led him to the right, where elaborate, elegant elevators beckoned him. A balcony appeared as he walked and overlooked the main entrance. He took a final look off of a balcony at the mural on the walls below before he turned his attention over to the elevators. A sign written in beautiful black handwriting alerted him to what the Joker had to do, and so he followed it as instructed; Russel pressed the "up" button and waited for the doors to open.

As he waited for an elevator, the man tried to decide where exactly he was to go to next. An elevator door to Russel's right opened, and beckoned him into it's empty cell. Walking in quickly, he hit the "close door" button, unwilling to possibly meet anyone else on his journey to the top of the tower. Thick finger clenched in anticipation as the elevator jolted, and in a rickety manner, pulled the large drummer higher into the tower to his fate.

End ramblings: Did everyone enjoy this? Huh? HUH! Mother fuckers, why don't you answer! I'm just kidding, you silly scooges. Please review, let me know what you think, and for the love of Gods, don't eat veal.


	6. Ace Up His Sleeve

Author: Whoa Tamo

Title: Feel Good Inc.

Rating: R

Pairing: M/M, M/F, F/F (Murdoc/2-D, Murdoc/Random chicks, Random chick/random chick). All in later chapters.

Warning: This story contains a good deal of drugs, sex, violence and hardcore music (I guess the music thing isn't something to be warned about, but whatever).

Summary: When Murdoc's friend Miro has outstayed her welcome at Kong Studios, she sends them to her favorite hangout; Feel Good Incorporated, a place where-literally-anything goes.

Disclaimer: If I owned Gorillaz, I probably wouldn't be spending my time writing fanfictions for them, now would I?

Authoress Ramblings: For anyone remotely interested, I began doodling pictures from this story in my sketch book, including a woman from a later chapter, 2-D from a later chapter, and Murdoc from a later chapter, so basically it's all wonderful shit that I don't think many of you would want to see until the chapters come out. Anyway, do review this story…I would tremendously appreciate it. Now, onward into the story.

Ace Up His Sleeve

Murdoc wasn't a particularly large fan of being told what to do, which was why he was grumbling lowly under his breath as he walked through his door. The man's boots squeaked softly as he turned to gaze back at his comrades, only to find that the drummer had already left, and the singer was staring in a confused manner at the blue neon sign above his door. The lights were low, bathing Murdoc's vision with darkness and bright blue light as he kept his eyes locked on the other young man. Unlike the vocalist, he was used to glaring neon lights from his many escapades of drinking late at night in the local pubs, so he was still able to watch 2-D from his open door without his vision contorted. He found himself holding his breath when the empty sockets fell onto him, sure that the man must be able to see him staring back, but he was surprised when 2-D didn't acknowledge his presence. Instead his blue hair flopped down in front of his eyes as he hung his head and frowned, a look of sadness gracing his features. Thin arms slipped delicately into a white t-shirt as scrawny, jean laden legs stepped timidly, hesitantly, through the King of Heart's door and disappeared.

Three grungy fingers loosely gripped the bronze doorknob, smudging the handle with prints as Murdoc stood with wide eyes, not sure what he would do knowing that 2-D was gone. He slammed the door and spun around in the narrow hallway, and as he walked towards his own destination, he thought about the blue haired boy, wondering how he was. One thing that Murdoc hated to admit to was his true feelings for 2-D. Granted, he didn't love the man, but contrary to belief, he didn't hate him either. In fact, if Murdoc had to pick anyone in the band to be trapped on a desert island with for the rest of eternity, he would choose 2-D…not to say that he would _want_ to do this, but that's beside the point. The point was how Murdoc felt about his band's singer, which was something he rarely thought about these days.

Years ago, before he concocted the idea to create a band, Murdoc lived a fairly simple life in Stoke-on-Trent, where he spent most of his days hanging around with a local gang he became acquainted with back in high school. As a teenager he hadn't started taking heavier drugs such as cocaine or heroin, sticking mostly to marijuana, drinking, and the occasional hit of LSD. Somehow, somewhere along these lines Murdoc began using meth, which was fairly new in the drug world. Addiction quickly became a serious part of Murdoc's life until he came to the point where he had lost his job, his apartment, and began to live in a Winnebago, using all of his money to buy meth. Something definitely had to change, but in his warped mind frame all he could conclude was that he needed more money, and hence came the idea to create a band. The story from here on is infamous; Murdoc put a young man by the name of Stuart Tusspot into a coma, and had to take care of him. Two dents now graced this boy's forehead because of the incident, his eyes were knocked into the back of his head, and he went by the name of 2-D, a nickname Murdoc had thought of himself while he was taking care of the boy.

All of his "hard earned" money soon went to taking care of the boy as well as paying for his required time in rehab. Over the course of five months 2-D had woken up, his required rehab time was up, and he had fulfilled his community service duties, yet Murdoc found himself attending rehab and caring for the younger man anyway. At the time he couldn't explain why, but later on he admitted to the fact that Stuart, in a rather unique way, had saved his life. His meth addiction was becoming a serious burden on his life, and considering that he had come as far as to rub crystal meth into his eye socket, he was destined for downfall. Within two years he had forced himself to go completely cold turkey, get his life back on track, and change everything for the better. Well, admittedly he didn't change _everything_. A few things remained in his life: the Winnebago, plans to create a world famous band, a bright red eye, and 2-D. The band Gorillaz was soon created, and their lives together began.

Not once did Murdoc ever try to hit Russel or Noodle, and not because of the reasons most people would think. He wasn't afraid of Russel in the slightest, and he wasn't particularly against harming a small girl. The only reason he held back against his two band members was because he felt that they were a waste of his time, completely worthless and futile to show any sort of emotion towards. They were simply there, meaningless until they played their instruments. 2-D, however, saved his life, and so he showed his appreciation through the only way he really knew how; everyday he did something with 2-D, whether it be fighting him, watching a movie with him, playing video games with him…he always showed his strange admiration for the other man. Contrary to popular belief, Murdoc never was dominant over 2-D. The man never scared the other into submission, though, yes, he _did_ tend to beat the other man up, but it was never _his_ fault that 2-D couldn't fight as well as _he_ could. Everyone always pitied the singer for injuries such as his two missing front teeth, countless scars, bruises…yet no one ever noticed the bruised skin on Murdoc's face, or a year before when 2-D managed to dig his nails into Murdoc's shoulder and left a deep wound there for weeks. Now as he walked down the hallway, he thought over how worried he was for the younger man. He fought that man because he respected him, and because of his respect he always hated the thought of 2-D being hurt by anyone else.

Murdoc was nervous about Feel Good Incorporated and what sort of troubles it may bring. His reputation for being extremely tough and unaffected by what the world may throw at him was a load of bullshit, which he bitterly admitted to as he walked down his respective hall. There was no warmth, no music, only the occasional sound of wood scraping against stone, or vice versa. Olive colored arms began to form small bumps out of nervousness and fear as the booted feet kept its steady, quick-paced walk to its destination. Faster, faster, and then…

A short burst of air startled the man, putting a sudden end to his trek. He looked at the door that slammed open before him, blinded slightly by the light shining from the room inside. A black shadow of a woman stood in the doorway, her silhouette showing a thin body with sharp, jabbing curves. Dull pain ebbed its way to the back of Murdoc's head as his neck muscles tightened uncomfortably, loosened, then tightened again. A thin, eerily boney hand seemed to lunge out of nowhere and grab the bassist's wrist, then proceeded to pull him into the blinding, white-lit room. His eyes took their time to adjust, filling his vision with brightly colored dots and blurs of objects from his environment. The smear of a wooden table with white and shining glass layering its top; pale, jagged looking people on large green couches, possibly pillows; small, random objects strewn across the floor…or possibly part of the floor? Murdoc was still unable to tell with his current vision. The same hand led him fast and rough across the room to the green cushions before forcing his own boney body to crush itself against the soft seats. His smell began to kick in as his sight readjusted, and his nose was immediately blown away by the oddly enticing, yet positively wretched aromas wafting around his room. Sweat, blood, bleach, smoke, hard liquor, fresh plastic…he was reminded of home, long before he was part of the band. Then one particular smell made his head spin. He was in ecstasy, pure pleasure by memory alone. Images of fighting until ambulances were called; images of finding God in your mind and asking him how his great big sack was hanging; images of a sweat-soaked girl beneath him, writhing in pleasure and pain, drenching his bed with blood and cum.

He furiously rubbed his eyes in protest until he finally recovered his temporarily lost sense, and gazed around the room in wonder. The table was the first to fall into line, being the largest, most prominent object in the room. It was long but low, as if a boardroom table and coffee table had mated, and this was the end result. The white on the table was most likely cocaine, either that or some form of heroin; possibly both, judging by the line of syringes. He then noticed the floor, which would have been entirely white if it weren't for the random mosaics of green crows, snakes, and lizards devouring small rodents. The walls were starch white, most likely painted this way to purposefully bounce light off of them to create an extremely bright and sterile atmosphere. A beauty stood before Murdoc on four of the most elegant legs he had ever seen, resting on the back of a majestic beast. There, in all its glory, was a small, fully functional meth lab. Crystal meth, to be exact. Sweet ice, beautiful, holy goddess of drugs…this was truly Murdoc's worst nightmare.

There was no way he would be able to resist this temptress.

Sharp eyes stared holes into Murdoc's own as he finally noticed the people surrounding him. Scantily clad, horribly thin people with dark circles underneath their cold eyes. Murdoc gave an involuntary shudder as one of the girls wrapped her arms around his neck, practically forcing him to notice her arms covered by small holes, fading scars on her wrist, and her bulging veins. "Murdoc…" she rasped unevenly, her eyes drooping as she spoke, "What…what would you…like?" He noticed immediately that she was having trouble speaking, and by her heavy breathing, he also managed to figure that she was fucked up on _something_.

But for some odd reason she brought back the same sort of memories the meth had. Happy, strange memories, but from much farther back. "You sound like mum." The words toppled out, doing cartwheels in the silent room, passing through each person's head, one ear to the other, and lingering behind as an echo. "I'm…not sure why I said that."

Stabbing giggles attacked Murdoc while cracked, flaking nails dug small crescent moons into his arm. It had been a good, long time since a woman had laughed at him, and he wasn't sure just how to react. When the girl laughed, however, her face softened very slightly, but enough that he didn't remain in a furious temper for long. "You're…mmph," was all she was able to get out before she collapsed onto him, her face smothered by his shoulder, mouth crushed awkwardly around small folds in his shirt. Other members of the room began to step forward, amused by how delightfully weak the woman was, and how concerned Murdoc was suddenly becoming.

Clinking was heard to the far left of Murdoc, then footsteps, and before his line of vision was a silver platter held by skeleton-esque hands that was decorated by different forms and variations of his lover, meth. A shaking, dirty hand grasped a cluster of the drug, holding it for a moment, before the other hand pulled down an eyelid, holding it down, forcing the eye open and prepared for what was to come. The bassist flinched, shocked by the pain and remembrance of rough scratching to his now sensitive eye. For a moment he thought his left eye was bleeding, but one lap of his tongue to the liquid dripping down his face revealed that he was tearing up, almost crying. Hissing laughter slipped through a few pairs of lips, softly etching its way into Murdoc's head. He had become weak; he had become clean, and as soon as he dirtied himself, he was flinching and crying. It was then that Murdoc vowed to prove his strength, prove his superiority, and his insanity, and show this place just how large his cock was. He would prove himself _to_ himself.

Feel Good Incorporated would soon learn the power of a well played ace.

End ramblings: Well, I had a good deal of fun writing this chapter. Also, it took me forever to write this particular part…I'm not sure why, but it did. I also wrote this over the course of about three months, something like that, so cut me a little slack if there's weird error in it or some shit like that. Anyway, review, my lovely bitches, and pester me about writing the next chapter while you're at it.


	7. My Apology

Dear Readers,

I decided to go ahead and write a letter of apology. It's been quite some time since I've updated my story…in fact, I can't remember the last time I updated it. So, I'm sorry.

My story "Feel Good Inc." is not, however, at its end. I'm planning on continuing it after my half-a-year or so hiatus. The next chapter will hopefully be up during the course of this month (February 2007).

That's about it.

So rejoice, my muppets…rejoice. The story must, and shall, go on.

-Whoa Tamo

PS: Contrary to popular belief, commenting DOES make me work faster.


	8. Lonesome Tears

Author: Whoa Tamo

Title: Feel Good Inc.

Rating: R

Pairing: M/M, M/F, F/F (Murdoc/2-D, Murdoc/Random chicks, Random chick/random chick). All in later chapters.

Warning: This story contains a good deal of drugs, sex, violence and hardcore music (I guess the music thing isn't something to be warned about, but whatever).

Summary: When Murdoc's friend Miro has outstayed her welcome at Kong Studios, she sends them to her favorite hangout; Feel Good Incorporated, a place where-literally-anything goes.

Disclaimer: I don't own Gorillaz. I really, really wish I did, because that'd be freakin' sweet, but I don't. It makes me a little emo every time I think about it.

Authoress Ramblings: Wow. It took me a really long time to remember this thing. Anyway, here I am remembering it, so good thing I guess.

Um…I'd also like to take this opportunity to note a horrid mistake I made in a previous chapter…you see, in chapter five, AKA "Don't You Think the Joker Laughs at _You_?", I said to not eat veal. I lied. Veal is fucking delicious, and even though it's made from itty bitty adorable calves…I really, really don't care. It tastes awesome, and you just have to accept that babies get eaten, too. Hell, no one's immune to the food chain, mmkay?

And I've come to the conclusion that no one reads my ramblings, so…yes. Right. Story.

Lonesome Tears

The television was on some random station showing old cartoons from long ago. Flinstones, Jestsons, Scooby Doo, Under Dog…the ones that had unexplained talking animals and the theme song told you the basic summary of the show. She had been up all night, scared to leave the room and go to bed…scared to fall asleep where she sat. Her eyes were towards the screen, though the foggy expression she held in them revealed that her attention was elsewhere. Instead of Fred Flinstone, her senses were focused on the rest of Kong. She was listening intently for the sound of anything stirring, any sudden movements that meant life was approaching. She heard shuffling, followed by a hacking cough that startled her, her heart beating hard in her chest, her nails digging into her soft palms.

The shuffling ended, and the creature turned its attention towards the cartoon. Blood shot eyes gazed unblinking, unmoved, surrounded by tired eye lids and smudged black eyeliner. Trails of dark gray ran down dry cheeks to a pair of surprisingly lovely lips…lovely had they not been smeared with orange lipstick. "I…" the creature laughed, tapping its booted foot against the other. "I think I had too much last night."

"Too much" was an understatement. The Japanese girl felt her muscles tense as she tried her best to disappear into the couch. That _bitch _had been up the entire night, stomping around the studio in her hideous combat boots, screaming this and that, destroying anything that--in her drunken sate--looked at her oddly. This mostly consisted of photos and the occasional lamp shade.

While the beast kept itself entertained, Noodle stood and left the room as quietly as she could manage in her current sleep deprived state. As she went along she took in the damage done to her home, and felt herself grow more and more depressed as she walked.

_Lonesome tears_

_I can't cry them anymore_

_I can't think of what they're for._

_Oh, they ruin me every time._

The walls and the floor…all in a mess, all in ruins. The rough bottoms of her feet slapped against the linoleum; her pants swishing softly, dully, as she headed closer to her bedroom. Nausea bubbled uneasily in her gut as the walls became increasingly defiled, the wallpaper hanging lifelessly. The wall's dead skin dangling, every once in a while dancing from a nearby vent; dancing gracefully and gleefully for Noodle. She thought she might vomit before she made it to the door.

_But I'll try_

_To leave behind some days_

_These tears just can't erase._

_I don't need them anymore._

The doorknob was eerily warm and slippery. Or, perhaps her own hand was; either way, she found herself twisting the knob back and forth helplessly until the door finally opened for her. Harsh tears welled in her vibrant emerald eyes, but before they could reach her cheek they were roughly rubbed away by the back of her right hand. Noodle sniffed loudly, but refused to let herself cry any more. Her bedroom no longer stood before her. No. It lay pitifully, begging to be put out of its misery. She couldn't even begin to imagine what Miro was on to have achieved such destruction.

_How could this love_

_Ever turning_

_Never turn its eye on me?_

_How could this love_

_Ever changing_

_Never change the way I feel?_

The walls, floor, ceiling…everything had been scratched, everything attacked and nearly dismembered. The posters and other assorted decorations were torn or thrown about; some lay broken, and she imagined those had been thrown at what was left of the walls. Noodle finally gave in to weakness as she stumbled outside the door and vomited. Her bed…her sheets had been rustled about, her underwear drawer torn from its dresser and, noticeably, missing quite a few pairs of the undergarments. She dug her nails deep into her scalp and tried her best to scream, but found that nothing came out but a pathetic cry. The smell…the horrible smell that now filled the air. Vomit, tears, sweat, plaster, and sex.

That vile woman fucked in her room. On _her_ bed. And now, some strange, disgusting man had some of _**her**_ underwear.

_Lazy sun_

_Your eyes catch the light_

_With promises that might_

_Come true for a while._

Destroying her room was one thing. But dirtying it, making it a place of pure filth…that was the last straw. Noodle stood from her position on the ground and carefully pulled her nails from her head, feeling strands of loose hair and blood stuck under them. She did not bother to wipe her mouth clean. No, she was far too focused now to care. What, pray tell, was the sweet, pretty little Axe Princess focused on? Why, death of course. Death to the monster.

_Oh, I'll ride_

_Farther than I should_

_Harder than I could_

_Just to meet you there._

But first, she would need help from her friends.

_How could this love_

_Every turning_

_Never turn its eye on me?_

_How could this love_

_Ever changing_

_Never change the way I feel?_

End Ramblings: I'm really, really not sure why this chapter took me so long to write. I dunno…I'm a fucking mystery. Anyway, feel free to review and all that shit. I appreciate reviews. They make me feel very, very warm and fuzzy. Kind of like when I need to pee.

Over and out.

P fuckin' S!: The next chapter is all about Muds, 'D and Russel, so if you didn't enjoy this one…too bad, asshole.

ANTOHER ONE!: The song which I used the lyrics from is called "Lonesome Tears" (sound familiar?) by Beck. The main reason I put it in and all that is because it really, really influenced me. Fuck this is boring. So yeah, I wrote this chapter the same way I wrote "Bittersweet"- really late at night while I was drunk. Turned out kinda gross, didn't it? Yep.


	9. We've Made it to the End

Alright, alright, alright...so here's what's been going on.

I haven't updated this story because over the past year, I've been living in a true-to-life version of Feel Good Inc.

I've fucked around, slept around, smoked like a chimney, been high and mighty on a billion throwns and am now a mangled mess of who I once was. I haven't updated this story (or any story) because I lost the will and desire to write.

But now look at me! I'm back, and rustier than ever. So, ladies and...ladies (if there is a guy reading this, let me know in the reviews, I'll make you brownies), I have returned to you with great news!

The story won't be updated on here.

However, before everyone starts sharpening their pitchforks and setting their torches ablaze, I have some actual good news for my fans.

I never check anymore, I never update on here, I'm completely uninterested in . However, I'm a fan of , and that's where this story will be continuing. My pen name is WhoaTamo, check me out, comment on a journal or something, and I'll let you know what's happening next in the story.

For those of you who don't want to convert to livejournal, here's my contact information:

AIM: Anarchymoose100 Email: Phone: HA! Don't fucking try to call me.  
DeviantArt: WhoaTamo (search for "Bittersweet", my other Gorillaz fanfiction)

As for myspace and facebook...no. Leave me alone on those sites.

Well, I hope to see you all on livejournal! Ciao!

-Whoa Tamo

PS: If I think no one is reading Feel Good Inc. on livejournal, I won't be updating the story at all. 


End file.
